


The Poison Tree

by inkwellveins (redlipstickkisses)



Series: A Twisted Tale [2]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: All Magic Comes With a Price, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Fables - Freeform, Gen, Gods, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Poetry, Morals, Original Fairy Tale, Parallels, Rebirth, Tags Are Hard, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Written for a Class, bargains and deals, but only if you miss my subtle hints, cycles, grim is being an enabler again, let gods be monsterous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipstickkisses/pseuds/inkwellveins
Summary: Once there was a God who was stardust made flesh and when he was slain his mother raged and tore her very self apart until she found the ones who had committed the crime. Devastation covered the world and so the brothers sacrificed themselves to right the wrong they had committed.  The thing with stories is; they have a way of repeating themselves.





	The Poison Tree

_ I was angry with my friend: _

_ I told my wrath, my wrath did end. _

 

   Once there were two brothers who lived deep in the forest. No one was quite sure how long they had lived there, simply that they had for longer than anyone could remember. They were as constant as the sky was up. However, the brothers were known to quarrel often for they were quite different in temperament. When they fought the very mountain shook, the river roared and the skies cried out. For these brothers were no ordinary humans. These brothers were something else entirely.

  And so to prevent any conflicts the brothers resolved to live on opposite sides of the mountain. But still, they fought. 

 

_ I was angry with my foe: _

_ I told it not, my wrath did grow. _

 

    Now at the base of the mountain was a town. It was once large and prosperous, but because of the brother’s quarrel, a large portion of it had been buried by a landslide. 

   In this town lived a man who had once been the eldest son of a large family. He had lost his parents and siblings and uncountable aunts and uncles to the landslide. Like many children growing up at the foot of the mountain, he had been raised on tales of the brothers. 

   And like many who had lost loved ones before their time, he was angry.

 

_ And I watered it in fears, _

_ Night and morning with my tears; _

 

  He left his life at the base of the mountain behind. He set it aside next to the ashes of his family and began the long climb up the rain-slicked slope. He was frozen and soaked through by the time he stumbled upon a cottage and was half convinced he was imagining things when a blur of white grabbed him and pulled him inside. 

   He awoke days later, disoriented, a cold body beside him in the bed. He stared at the stranger, trying to gain his bearings. No one lived on the mountain. No one sane, and no one human. The room he was in was cozy and well lived in. Obviously, the stranger had been here a while.

   He reached out to touch the strange glass-like skin of the stranger's face. Colorless eyes flickered open and fixed unerringly on his face, freezing him, hand still hovering in midair. 

    His rescuer sat up never breaking eye contact. When he spoke it was with a voice like ice calving from a glacier. “Why have you shown up drenched on my doorstep?”

    The man felt fear slid down his spine like melting ice but he forced himself to answer. “My family was killed, I have nothing left.”

    There was a flicker of something in those unreadable eyes, but the brothers’ face remained as inscrutable as the sea. “Why have you come to me.”

 

_ And I sunned it with smiles, _

_ And with soft deceitful wiles. _

 

    The man took a deep breath as he bowed his head. “My family was killed by a great being. I do not possess the strength to take revenge on them but I have heard that there is no potion you cannot create or weapon your brother cannot forge.”

    “So you wish for me to help you take your revenge.” The man held his breath as the brother considered his proposition. The man knew if he failed now his only chance would be gone. What he did not know was that the brother had once bowed his own head before a power greater than himself seeking the same thing. A hand as cold as death tilted his chin up until he was staring up into those ever-shifting eyes. “I will aid you in your quest.”

    The brother’s footsteps were as soft as snowflakes as he turned away from him and focused his attention on the wall of books. “It will take me three days to create the spell you seek. My brother will require three days to form the weapon you request. To combine them will take three days more.”

    The man could see the candlelight refracting through the brothers' skin. Rainbows danced across the floor. “Nine days of labor and a weapon to kill an immortal, a steep price to pay.”  

    The brother cast a look over his shoulder and the man was struck to his very core. He was suddenly very aware of what it was he had set out to do and fell to his knees. “What will you give me in return?”

__ To pledge an oath to a god is no small thing. But then, neither was killing one. “I give you my soul. After I have struck down my foe may the heat leave my breath and my heart cease to beat.” 

    The brother turned a thick leather bound book in his hand. “A desperate mans’ oath.”

    For a moment the man thought he was going to decline and leave the bargain to unspool, a stray thread unraveled and tangled into knots. He was surprised by a smile like icicles.

    “I accept.”

 

_ And it grew both day and night, _

_ Till it bore an apple bright. _

_ And my foe beheld it shine. _

_ And he knew that it was mine, _

 

Three days passed uneventfully, as long as you discount the occasional explosion. The brother was seldom to be seen, a ghost haunting his own home. Before he even realized it the man was introduced to the second brother. The elder brother was a bright man, cheerful and full of laughter. When he spoke the wind rustled in the trees and the ground rumbled in the distance. 

    The sword the elder crafted was a thing of beauty, shining silver in the light. The man knew that even unfinished this sword could slay armies. The brothers did not let him stay for the enchantment process but he could tell the moment it was finished. The wind shifted and something in him cried out. 

    His soul knew its time was almost up. One more night. 

    The brothers presented the sword to him and it is the most human he had ever seen them. There were circles under colorless eyes and an ever-smiling mouth was curved into a tired frown. Usually, the air around them sang with power but now it was barely more than a hum. 

 

_ And into my garden stole _

_ When the night had veiled the pole; _

 

    That night as the brothers slept the man took the sword in hand and struck them down. He felt the moment the bargain was fulfilled. As promised the heat left his breath and though his blood rushed through his veins his heart sat as unmoving as a stone in his chest. 

    His purpose fulfilled there was no reason for him to linger on the mountain so he began his journey. Every day he traveled his unease grew. Though he traveled through the forest he saw no animal and heard no birdsong. Every stream bed he came across was as dry as dust and the leaves turned from green to yellow to brown. No cloud made its way across the sky and the sun beat down on him day after day turning the soil to dust. He could feel eyes watching him even as he slept and so he clutched the sword ever tighter.

    He opened his eyes and a galaxy stretched before him. In his bones he heard a song vibrating loud and impossibly low. He could see no one else and yet he knew he was not alone. 

    “You have killed my sons.” He did not know how he understood the words for the tone did not change. The void before him grew ever darker as the stars swirled ever on. 

    “You are foolish mortal.” Suddenly he was no longer a man, he was the wind slipping through the walls of a thousand homes; watching as millions fell like flies. 

    “You have unsettled the balance of power,” echoed in a soul he did not have, “We are greater than you could ever imagine. We will be there at the end of all things and we will stand strong long after.”

    He was freezing and burning; a star condensing back into existence. The song had not changed. “We will endure but your kind will not, what will you do?” 

    He could stand by his decision and doom them all or he could make a deal. In the space where his soul used to reside something like regret sat. “I will balance the scales again.” 

    The hum pierced his mind with something that might have been amusement. “You presume much mortal. It is a high price you offer to pay.”

    He felt no sadness. He had burned his love on the funeral pyres and left his grief on the mountainside. His soul was gone, traded away; now he held the fulcrum of balance in his hands. “I will pay it.”

 

_ In the morning glad I see _

_ My foe outstretched beneath the tree. _

 

    A supernova exploded and he was flung far and wide, his mortality lost in between the galaxies. The nebula condensed and there was fire in his veins. With every blink the earth shook, every breath brought color back to the trees. He was the devastation wrought by his foolish mortal quest for revenge, every tear a cloud heavy with rain. 

    He cried out in sorrow and the earth answered his call with fire and ash. Molten rock rolled down a mountainside and buried an abandoned village. 

    In time it would crack and new growth would overrun it. The gods did so much more than endure. 

    The song of the Heavens lingered and as he wept tears of fire. It hummed ever on as if it had seen this all before. “You have chosen well my son.”

  
  



End file.
